Back to Square One
by paxbanana
Summary: Korra must lose her bending to find her family and people again. As she rediscovers her home, she rediscovers herself. An exploration of how Korra could have regained her bending.


Warnings: Vegetarians may want to look away.

AN: I was unsatisfied by the conclusion of the first season of Korra; I'm pretty sure they needed 2-3 more episodes. I wrote this as an expansion of how perhaps Korra could rediscover her bending in a more spiritual way and an exploration of her relationship with her tribe. As always, it's my interpretation of what daily life might be like in the Southern Water Tribe.

* * *

Korra pushed away Katara's hand. She knew that if the best waterbender on the planet couldn't restore her bending, it wasn't going to happen. Katara leaned back and started to rise. With her painful joints, Katara was at a disadvantage as Korra got to her feet and walked away from her. Korra slid open the door and strode through the throng of gathered people. She didn't spare a thought about her parents, her friends, or the concerned White Lotus members.

The dry cold air outside hit her lungs like a hot knife, and the endless white was sharp on her eyes. Korra took a deep breath and looked her fill, trying to find herself in these familiar surroundings. She'd missed this place while she'd been at Republic City. She hadn't realized how much.

"Korra."

She tried to gather herself, but her father's strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. She became his little girl again, and she turned to sob against his shoulder. She knew she'd disappointed this man who'd always been so proud of her. "I'm so sorry!" she gasped.

Tonraq's hand cupped the back of her head. "You have nothing to apologize for, Korra." He smiled when she pulled back to wipe her eyes, and he gently chucked her chin. "Why don't we go out to seal hunt?"

Seal hunting, now? Despite the horrible realities of her situation, she felt a tremble of childish excitement. She'd spent her entire life shut up in this compound. Her parents had visited her every few days, but she'd rarely been allowed to take hunting trips with her father—even when other kids of the Southern Water Tribe did so daily with their parents. Even at her age it felt like a treat. She needed the break, and she wanted the quiet time with her father.

Someone else came outside. Another arm wrapped around her waist. Her mother's scent was as comforting as her squeeze. "Come home," Senna said quietly.

The White Lotus would probably protest, but she didn't give a damn about them. She wasn't the Avatar anymore, right? So why would they keep her a prisoner here anymore? It was a bitter disappointment when the gates opened and the White Lotus allowed her out without a word. Apparently they thought the same damn thing.

Korra flipped up the hood of her parka jacket to hide her tears and breathed into the ruff to warm her face. She walked through the snow with her parents for the journey back to the Southern Water Tribe village. Always loyal Naga followed behind them. This was her family.

For the first time in many years, she spent the night in her parent's hut—which hadn't been her home since she'd been discovered as the Avatar—and slept in the bedroll they kept there for her.

In the morning, she and her father journeyed out onto the shorefast ice to hunt seal. Tonraq was a quiet man, and they required no words as they walked together to the hunting grounds. The only thing he said to her was: "I'm proud of you, girl."

She had nothing to say in reply.

They found the seal hole and sat on either side of it, silent and motionless. For the first time, Tonraq let Korra hold the spear. For hours they waited until, finally, a whiskered face bobbed up to take a breath. Korra's spear thrust was perfect, and Tonraq helped her drag the fat beast out of the water.

They slaughtered it, skinned it, and had a feast. Tonraq let Korra slice out both kidneys for herself, even though they were his favorite part of a fresh seal. They were iron and almond on her tongue, the fat and minerals all combining into a taste and consistency she'd never found anywhere else. It was the taste of home, of her family, of her tribe.

She'd never had much chance to be a part of that.

"We're waiting for our last whale," Tonraq said quietly a while later. He handed her an eyeball, which was a burst of fatty goodness on her palate. His hands and face were bloody, as were hers from their meal. "We want you to carry the spear."

Korra looked up from where she was scooping out fatty marrow from a cracked bone. Her father regarded her seriously. It was a great honor to carry the whale spear. The task was given to trusted individuals, and some considered it a mark of adulthood. No outsider was ever given the task; she'd never expected to be asked to do it.

"It would be an honor," she answered.

His smile was gentle. He folded the seal pelt around what was left of the carcass and dropped the bundle into the sled they'd dragged with them. They'd left a few of the parts Senna most enjoyed: one eye, the fatty meat of the stomach, and the entire liver. The rest of the parts would go into a stew that would be offered to their close neighbors.

"Then we should get back. You'll need to take a post to watch for whale sign."

* * *

The whale hunt was in no way a solitary custom. They—mostly the men of the village—sat at the edge of the late spring ice flow, waiting for whale sign. Others often came down in groups with supplies, food, and gossip, and through the next days, it was a relaxed commune.

It was one of the first times in her entire life that Korra felt she was a part of her community and even her family. Her father and mother stayed close to her, and there was no talk of her bending, her spirituality, or of her being the Avatar.

Her peers from the village even pulled her away for gossip and laughter during mealtimes. A few of them were married, and one girl who was only a year older than Korra put her bundled baby into Korra's arms. These people had always been an impenetrable social group to her, yet now that they were so far apart in the stages of their lives, they welcomed her openly. Korra was realizing that the outcast mentality she'd carried around since her childhood probably had to do with her, not them.

Mako and Bolin even came down to the ice a few times. They were both strangely shy, and Mako looked at her in a way that made her go tight in the chest. Korra forged past that. She pointed out animal signs, talked about the ice, and for the first time, she was able to speak about the spiritual beliefs of her people without feeling like a superstitious idiot.

Late on the third day, they finally saw whale sign. There was a shout, and six of them clambered into the boat, the _umirak_. Another few men slid the seal-skin kayak into the water, and Korra balanced at the bow. Her eyes traced the coils of rope that connected her whale spear to the boat, making sure there were no knots or tangles. She bent her knees and rocked with the sea, anticipating the push and pull of the ocean.

She was exhausted. She'd awakened early that morning and played with the children, hunted seal, tanned leather with her mother that evening, and then sat at watch late into the night. It was nearly midnight—barely dusk—but she felt the weight of the long days and sleepless nights. Her exhaustion hung heavy on her, keeping her hands from shaking in excitement.

Behind her, four men rowed, attempting to draw alongside the whale. Another man, a waterbender, served as their steersman and gently added speed and guided their direction. All the while, Korra held her spear ready, waiting for the moment the whale would surface next to the kayak.

Her thighs and knees ached from posting with the boat, and her shoulder burned from the weight of the spear.

She fell into semi-meditation: shifting her body to meet the jumps of the kayak created by the swirls and turbulence of the sea. She almost felt the water through the seal-skin that separated them from the ocean. Several times the whale surfaced just too far from their kayak. There were long minutes between each surfacing, and she remained ready to strike the whole time. Korra felt the water, pictured it, and she imagined the parting of it as the whale finally rose to take a breath, parallel with the boat.

In one frozen eternity, Korra met the whale's gaze. She felt him; she knew his sacrifice and the gentleness with which he offered it. Korra rocked forward and drove the spear home.

The rope unwound as the whale dove; she quickly dropped the bladder-buoys off the starboard side of the boat. They increased drag and tired the whale more quickly. Now they had to wait for the whale to exhaust itself.

All the members of the boat had the task of balancing against the drag of the whale and the resistance they could apply as well without capsizing. Not to mention avoiding invisible ice floating just beneath the surface of the water. Throughout that long night, Korra never once feared the ice. She wondered if it was because she could no longer feel the water and ice with her bending or if there was some age-old instinct that her tribe carried with them inherently.

It took perhaps fifteen minutes for the whale to die. It floated to the surface, and they lashed it to the boat. Korra murmured the traditional prayer spoken in their ancient language, thanking the whale for his willing sacrifice for her people.

They settled down in the boat and each picked up a paddle and began the several hour return to the whale camp. Tonraq's hand fell to her shoulder at one point, and his deep voice was quiet with pride. "It was a good throw, a good hunt, Korra." He squeezed, patted her shoulder, and then continued to paddle.

She fell back into that strange meditation as she paddled. She imagined the currents of the water, the shift and flow of the waves, and the warmth of her own breath moving through her body.

When they arrived within sight of the whaling camp, a shout broke out from the villagers gathered there. Children ran up the ice, keeping pace with their boat, which had gained speed now that their steersman had gathered his bending strength. When they touched the ice, a crowd of men and women dragged the boat up and helped them out. They were all laughter and celebration. Korra was hugged, her arm gripped, and her shoulder slapped by nearly everyone there.

They waved her away as they prepared to wench the whale upon the ice for butchering. A few waterbenders rolled their bodies and coaxed the ocean to help them at the task. Korra wearily walked some distance away and slowly sat down cross-legged on the flat ice. She watched as that crowd of people she'd grown up with—but apart from—lashed the whale's flukes with rope and began to drag it ashore both by bending and communal strength.

She'd never been this singularly exhausted in her life. She was so tired that she felt almost out of body; things within her didn't resonate nearly as strongly as things around her. All her life, her elders had described sensing the "energies" in the environment, and now she understood what they meant. Or she was so tired she'd fallen asleep and was dreaming all this stuff up.

She felt the water flow beneath the solid ice under her body. She felt the heat of her breaths, the slow but strong energy of her life force. She sensed, far away, the resonation of the earth—sensed its power deep below her and miles to the south beyond the shorefast ice. She felt the stirring of the air, still but present all around her. As she looked up, she actually saw energy and spirituality in all these elements, connected to each person and the whale they dragged upon the shore.

She followed those infinite threads to the figure seated on the ice before her. Korra stared harder. That was _her_ parka, _her_ head bent in unconscious meditation. Korra jolted and looked down at herself—this other form she was now—and realized she was just a bead of spiritual energy separated from her physical form.

She understood.

"So now you see."

Korra turned from where she stared at her own physical-self seated on the ice. Behind her stood Aang. He smiled at her gently. His face blurred until she could see others: Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk… Each name was there, already within her, not learned by endless White Lotus lectures or memorized from books. She saw them in her and her in them, just as she saw the energy—_chi_—that flowed to and from herself.

In that flow, she saw the break, the twist in her soul that stoppered her knowledge of her own bending.

She knew how to restore the flow.

"Thank you," she told Aang.

He smiled. "It was you, Korra. But we will be here if ever you need help."

She knew they were there at her back—and that they always would be—as she sat back down into her physical form. She settled back into that body as naturally as putting on a parka. Then, so easily, she reached into herself and tweaked, restoring the flow of her chi with a burst of euphoric energy.

She saw it in full now: there was energy in everything, and it was beautiful.

Korra rose to her feet and beyond, buoyed by the air she drew into a cyclone beneath her. From her core she released a burst of fire that hissed as it struck the ice beneath her. She seized the tiny particles of sand that had long ago found a place in the ice under her and pressed it outward in a maelstrom of flying earth. Finally, she shattered and restored the ice below her feet. It was a confirmation of her bending, and a gift to her tribe.

Somehow they'd known how to fix her, even when the White Lotus hadn't. From across the ice, they shouted to her in pride and love.

She took two running strides and opened up the ice to paint herself a flowing path back to the White Lotus Compound. People needed her there. In the time it took to skate across the ice, Korra held firm in herself the knowledge that she could fix it—she could fix everyone affected by Amon's twisted bloodbending. She could fix them as she'd fixed herself.

She was the Avatar.

-end-


End file.
